Just Call My Name, I Will Answer
by Mynstrel
Summary: Ten years after the last battle that saw the defeat of Voldemort, the Dark Side is rising once again, heroes are needed again.


Just Call My Name

Just Call My Name, I Will Answer

A/n: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, who has given us an amazing place to play in, for that she has my everlasting thanks.

For an explanation, to cut down on the number of reviews I get consisting of question marks, this story takes place 10 years after the last battle that saw the downfall of Voldemort, except for the prologue, which takes place immediately after the battle. The Marauders (Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Sirius and Remus for the purpose of this story) have moved to a new country and live new lives under new names. When the Dark Side begins to rise again, they answer the call to duty, because that is what heroes do.

PROLOGUE:

For a moment time stood still, death a gong ringing in the vault of space. The survivors huddled together, clinging like lost frightened children. When the light returned they blinked and stared at the destruction they had, in part, caused. Friends and enemies lay sprawled and crumpled on the ground, dolls tossed aside when they became boring.

"What do we do now?" the dark-haired girl whispered.

The one with glasses stared at the stunned crowd gathering on the edge of the field. Already they were whispering and pointing at them. Their faces were awed and wary; whenever he tried to meet their eyes, they looked away.

"We walk away," the werewolf rasped, also looking at the crowd.

"Those people don't want us here," the silver eyed man agreed.

The redheaded siblings glanced at each other and nodded in agreement. 

They ignored the delegation coming towards them, grasping the Portkey the dark-haired girl held out, vanishing into legend. The delegation stumbled to a stop, all pleased in their secret hearts that they were gone; live heroes were problematic. Better that they be gone, heroes were easier to handle when they were dead.

10 years later

Hawk looked up when he felt the wards tingle. Strangers. He glanced around; Lyric was in the house with Jay. Wren was in the garden and Lark was there across the courtyard. A sudden crash told him where Kestrel was and there was Robin sprinting up the trail.

"Dad!" he cried when he saw him. "Someone's coming up the road."

"How many?"

"Three. They're in a pick-up."

"Okay, run inside and tell your mom to Call Orion and Romulus."

"We're already here, Hawk."

Orion and Romulus were standing on the porch with Lyric and Jay. Wren and Lark were coming, laughing as they raced.

"They look like those people Tia and Max warned us about," Rom said laconically as he walked down the steps.

"The ones looking for the Marauders?"

Orion nodded his eyes serious. "They seem to think we'll know what happened to them."

"Didn't Tia tell them the Marauders are dead?"

"They didn't believe her."

"What are you going to tell them," Rom asked quietly, his golden eyes curious.

Hawk shrugged. "The truth, what else? The Marauder's are dead."

A truck pulled into the yard, disgorging its passengers gratefully. Hawk was surprised to see he recognized one of the men: the local sheriff, a wizard, Harry was sure, who knew exactly who they were.

The other two were strangers; a man and a woman dressed in fancy city clothes unsuitable to the riotous surroundings of the courtyard. Hawk moved forward to meet them, aware that Orion and Rom were close behind him. Hawk nodded to the sheriff, "Jensen, how are you doing?" His clipped British accent had been slurred by the slow rhythms of his adopted home. 

The sheriff grinned, the image of a laid back, not too smart country boy. "Doing just fine, Evans, thank you for asking. My wife asked me to remind you lot of the picnic next week."

"Sounds like fun. What should we bring?"

"Well, Olson has donated several steers for barbecue and Ivan is making up some cider. The Jones boys have agreed to provide some music. Those boys are something else on their fiddles."

Rom and Orion were snickering. It was obvious from the twinkle in his eyes that Jensen was deliberately needling the impatient strangers. Hawk grinned, "Lyric makes pies that make your mouth water, Sheriff."

"That would do just right, Evans." Finally, the sheriff introduced the strangers. "This here is Grace Roberts and her husband, Geoffrey, Hawk. They were asking questions around town."

The man stepped forward, glaring at the Sheriff in an impotent attempt to put the smirking wizard in his place.

"My wife and I," he said snootily, "are looking for the Marauders."

"The who?" Orion asked.

"The Marauders," the woman piped up. "They are great war heroes."

"Wars do not make one great."

"We were told they live around here," the man said, ignoring them.

"We're the only ones who live here," Orion put in.

"Then you must be the ones we're looking for!" the woman exclaimed.

"I seriously doubt that," Orion opined, drawing chiding looks from Rom and Hawk.

Romulus stepped in; even after all these years he was still the peacemaker. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "you've come a long way for nothing."

"The Marauders are needed again," the man said stoutly.

"You'll have to do it on your own this time," Hawk said. "The Marauders are dead."

"You are Harry Potter," the woman breathed, staring at Hawk with glowing eyes. "And you," she continued staring at Orion and Rom, "are Sirius Black and you are Remus Lupin." She switched her gaze to Lyric, standing on the porch, "You are Ginny Weasley. The couple we spoke to in the city are Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley."

Hawk stared at them with cold eyes. Orion and Rom had ushered the others into the house. "Not anymore we aren't," he said, walking up the porch steps. 

"Voldemort is back," the man said, desperation and fear breaking his voice.

Hawk missed a step. He slowly turned to stare at them. Even Jensen straightened from his slump on the truck. Rom, Orion and Lyric appeared at the door. The only sound to be heard was Robin's piping voice telling a story and Kestrel breaking something. With sudden pops, Tia, Max and their three kids appeared. The kids ran inside while Tia and Max moved closer to the group on the porch; Lyric had Called them.

"Voldemort is dead," Hawk finally said.

"But his legacy isn't,' the man said, staring wide-eyed at them. "Someone is continuing his work. He even calls himself Voldemort. That's why we need your help, Marauders."

An hour and a half later, Hawk walked out onto the porch. Rom and Orion were sitting on the steps, staring blankly at the stars. Their unwelcome guests had gone back down the mountain with the sheriff, protesting every inch of the way. Above his head, he could hear Lyric and Max coaxing the kids into bed, Tia was in the kitchen, fixing a drink that had only a passing acquaintance with tea. Rom and Orion moved slightly, making room for Hawk on the wide steps. 

"Mars is very bright tonight," Rom said softly.

"I hate it when people tell me that," Orion growled, cuffing Rom over the shoulder. 

Hawk heard Lyric's light footsteps on the weathered boards then felt the warmth of her presence on his skin like the sun just come out. She sat on the porch railing, after mussing his already messy hair. Tia and Max were arguing genially as they brought the tray out on the porch.

"Why us?" Hawk asked softly.

"Look at it this way, old friend," Max drawled from the doorway. "Who else would you trust to save the world?"

"Do you realize what you are saying?" Rom's voice was low and intense, his eyes probing. Max met his eyes easily, calmly.

"Yes, I know what I am saying. What choice do we have, Rom?"

"We can mind our own business," Orion said sharply.

"Orion, if half of what those people told us is true, then it is our business," Tia said.

"We've already saved the world once, let them find someone else!" Rom jumped to his feet and prowled up and down the porch.

"Who?"

Max lolled against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. Time had been kind to the gangly boy, filling out his chest and shoulders, fading his freckles into a light tan and fatherhood had given him hard-won patience and insight. Glancing around, Hawk could see that time had been kind to them all. Tia's edgy intelligence had found avenues that drained off the excess energy that had made her so annoying as a student; Rom was more relaxed, more at ease with his lycanthropy; Orion had found his laughter again and resembled the boy he had been. Lyric seldom had nightmares anymore and Hawk himself could go for long weeks at a time without remembering who he had once been. 

"What do you think, Hawk?" Max asked quietly. Hawk looked around meeting their eyes. None of them truly wanted to go back, they were happy with the new lives they had carved out, without the memories of lost friends and family. 

"I would be happy living the rest of my life here," Lyric said softly, as if she could see the thoughts swirling around his head.

"Without the bigotry," Rom agreed.

"Or the memories," Orion said softly in the flat tones that always crept into his voice when he remembered.

"We have a good life here," Tia said, claiming the swing.

"Our children," Max said, joining Tia on the swing, "are everything we ever dreamed of. They live in a world we gave them."

Hawk looked out at the night sky, "There really is no choice, is there?"

Lyric shook her head, laying her hand on his shoulder. 

Orion glared at the stars, "No." 

Rom threw himself into one of the chairs, "No," he growled.

Max squeezed Tia's hand, "Not really, no." 

Tia shook her head, "No choice at all, Hawk."


End file.
